


Half-Baked

by kihophoric



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Baking, Established Relationship, M/M, Minhyuk just rants about work, Monsta X Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 04:05:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17615132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kihophoric/pseuds/kihophoric
Summary: Neighbors Minhyuk and Jooheon sign up for their apartment's free baking class hosted by a reluctant cooking instructor.





	Half-Baked

 

“Unbelievable. The apartment budget could afford giving their residents a free baking class, but they couldn’t lower our rent for next month?” Jooheon surveyed the large university hall as people filed in, drumming fingers on the counter in front of him. Rows upon rows of workstations were complete with stoves, sinks, and an oven each. Each station stood heaped with an assortment of top-of-the-line bakeware and prepped ingredients.

“I’m telling you, it’s the carrot and stick trick,” Minhyuk scoffed as he adjusted his apron. “They give us a carrot and then tell us where we should stick it up.”

“I don’t think that’s quite how it goes.”

The instructor cleared his throat from the front of the hall, his I’m-not-paid-enough-to-even-pretend-I-enjoy-working-the-weekend voice blaring through the speaker system. Apparently, they were going to make gingerbread houses, he had been told ten minutes prior. Why they informed him to teach a _cooking_ class, he hadn’t the faintest.

Minhyuk ripped open a packet of gummies. “That’s _exactly_ how it goes. The apartment is like the companies that incentivize their low-paid employees to stay for peanuts. Literally. My office snack room is stock full with processed food and I’m _tired_ of it. What does a guy gotta do to get some fresh fruit around here?”

“Y’all have a _snack room_?” Jooheon shook his head while folding his sleeves back and busying himself with making the dough. “Must be nice.”

“Not with the crap they stock it up with,” Minhyuk tilted half a cup of chocolate into his mouth and flailed his arm widely while making a point, sending pieces scattering across the floor. “The yearly breakdown the company snack budget is like, 200 bucks per employee. Meanwhile our average salary is nearly 4000 lower than the norm in this area. They ain’t slick.”

Jooheon snorted, brushing the back of his head against his face. A streak of flour transferred to the tip of his nose and stayed there. “And have you told them you see through their bullshit?”

The instructor suddenly thought of a brilliant idea. All he needed to do was to make sure everyone makes a gingerbread house, right? Perhaps, then, we can make this class into a competition. Not for the Most Beautiful, not for the Tastiest, nay, but for the Fastest-made gingerbread house. A competition… of speed. Now that’s a plan that’ll take him _home_.

Minhyuk clicked his tongue. “I’m playing the game for the long-term. Lay low, earn their trust, and once I’m powerful enough, those execs won’t even know what hit them.”

Hearing the news from the front of the hall, Jooheon cracked his neck, stretched his arms, and jumped back into kneading the flour with double the speed.  “And you think our board will still be around by the time you make it up there?”

“Have faith in my corporate-ladder climbing skills, my friend,” Minhyuk drawled before popping a raspberry into his mouth. “And besides, even if it takes me a _little_ longer, you can bet those fat-asses are gonna stay put in those comfy positions until they drop dead.”

“Unless they decide to rope in their favorite parachutes to replace themselves,” Jooheon shrugged as he carefully cut the rolled dough into squares. “You know, through the same connections that put those unqualified oafs up there.”

Minhyuk peered over the ingredients at his station for anything else to devour prematurely. He picked up the packet of powdered sugar in interest. “In that case, the future board deserves my wrath just as much as the current seat-warmers do.”

It appeared that, save a few diligent students, simply stating this was a competition wasn’t enough of an encouragement, the instructor realized. Alright, then. Let’s up the ante. The fastest to complete their houses gets… an award.

“Fair enough,” Jooheon panted slightly as he balanced the baking tray in one arm while hoisting the over door open with the other. He wiped his hands down his apron after closing the oven door. “Who’s to say the hiring process is ever going to look for actual qualified big-seat candidates.”

“Exactly,” Minhyuk mumbled, preoccupied with his experiment of mixing a strangely brown concoction with some choice ingredients in a mixing bowl. “I bet money we’re not gonna see any overhaul in the next ten years, at least.”

Jooheon propped his elbows on the counter, sticking out his tongue and tasting the rainbow of frosting choices. He went into deep thought after the orange one. “Most definitely not.”

Exasperated at the results, Minhyuk pushed his experiment aside. “Now, about the demons running the apartment complex? Boy, do I have plans for them.”

The instructor should probably come through with that award, huh. He sighed for the millionth time that day and took out his wallet. In it was some loose change, a lone cough drop, and a customer loyalty card to the local ice-cream parlor, two stamps away from a free scoop. That’ll do, instructor, that’ll do.

 

 

 

Two hours later, the instructor slowly approached the workstations of the last two students in the hall, crestfallen. “You haven’t even… begun?”

Minhyuk glanced down at his uneaten ingredients in mild interest. “I think I made a fair dent.” He nodded at the remnants of Jooheon’s utterly simple box of a house. “In his, too.”

The poor chap brought his hands up into clasped prayer as he pleaded. “Please… I want to go home.”

“We’re not stopping you,” Jooheon fanned his face with the ice-cream coupon and held up the instructor’s ID card hanging on a lanyard around his neck. “We can all go home now, Hyungwon.”

“But his gingerbread house- you won’t raise a complaint-”

“You’re good,” Minhyuk waved the worries of this Hyungwon instructor aside. “I never gave a shit about this class from the start. No offense,” he added for good measure.

Hyungwon looked like he was about to cry out of relief. “ _Thank you._ To tell you the truth…” He leaned in closer, as if it was a secret from an invisible fourth person in the hall. “I know squat about baking. I don’t know how the hell I got here and at this point I’m too afraid to ask.”

Jooheon comfortingly patted Hyungwon’s back. “I thought you were an excellent instructor. The creative freedom you gave us was really something else.”

“Plus, the place is still in one piece, so I consider that the biggest win.” Minhyuk straightened up. “You did good, kid.”

“Okay, well. Thanks,” Hyungwon shuffled his weight. “So, I gotta clean up now, so if you don’t mind…” he awkwardly motioned for the door.

“Nonsense, let us help you!” Jooheon exclaimed, with Minhyuk nodding in agreement and snaking his arm across the former’s shoulder.

“Jeez, really,” Hyungwon coughed. “That’s nice. Y’all are nice. Well, then…” He proceeded to walk to the complete opposite side of the hall and began clearing out the workstations.

“Your plan for teaching the apartment’s board of directors does seem foolproof,” Jooheon began as he washed his utensils.

“You know I don’t do half-baked ideas,” Minhyuk brought over a trashcan and swept the majority of his counter’s mess into it. “It’s all or nothing for me, baby.”

“But I gotta say, it seems an awful lot of work when you could just move to another apartment complex.”

“No way,” Minhyuk stopped stuffing his pockets with a nearby workstation’s unopened candy packets to frown at Jooheon. “That is a no-go for me.”

“And why is that?” Jooheon questioned, a smile playing on his lips as he already knew the answer.

“Because if I move,” Minhyuk stared at the other, intent passing through the air like crackling electricity, “then the cutest boy in the world would no longer be my neighbor.”


End file.
